Proving Herself
by BravoKate
Summary: New at NCIS, Kate is desperate to prove herself to her new boss.


**Disclaimer: **NCIS does not belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended.

**A/N: **This story is not associated with any particular episode, though I see it as taking place within a few weeks of "Yankee White."

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Proving Herself**

Kate stares, bleary-eyed, at the computer screen in front of her, praying desperately that Gibbs or Tony is having more success than she is. She always wants to solve a case quickly, of course. To bring a criminal to justice. To give closure to the victims' families. To make the world that much safer for innocent civilians. Today, however, her motives are far less altruistic.

Quite simply, Kate needs to sleep. Needs it in that aching, desperate way that tells her that she can't hold out much longer. Not without completely losing brain functioning.

She's no stranger to late nights, of course. Still, somehow she can't remember ever having been quite _this _exhausted. Maybe it's like getting sick – every time you get a cold, it feels like the worst one you've ever had. She doesn't know. And at this point, she doesn't really care. As she drags herself through the motions of going over witnesses' statements, all she can think about is crawling into bed. Or, if that's not possible, then curling up on the floor and giving in to her exhaustion, at least for a few hours.

But there's no time for that. There's a murdered lieutenant lying on a slab in autopsy. She owes it to him to put catching his killer over her personal comfort. Not to mention, Gibbs would kill her if he caught her sleeping on the job. So Kate continues with her work. Her eyes sweep steadily over the document in front of her, but though she reads each word, she has no hope of actually processing, let alone remembering, what she's reading.

Even so, she ploughs on, trying not to think about the dryness of her eyes, or the tension in her back and neck. She tries to wrench her thoughts away from self-condemnation, tries not to curse herself for her long nights at the office. Tries not to remember how she had been finally going home to get a decent night's sleep, when she'd gotten Gibbs's call on her cell. But dwelling on that won't help now. She needs to focus.

She is resting her head on her hand, trying to convince herself that she really _is _concentrating, when she is startled by the sight of a familiar figure looming over her.

"What've you got, Kate?" Gibbs demands with characteristic brusqueness.

She sighs. "Nothing new. I've read over the statements again, but I can't find anything we might have missed. I'm – " She bites back the apology just in time.

He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. "Keep looking." He comes around behind her, reading over her shoulder for a few moments, then seems to remember something. "What happened to the shell casings we found?"

Kate feels her breath catch in her throat. _Shit!_ She inhales deeply, and tries desperately to keep her rising panic off of her face. Because the truth is? She has no _idea _what she did with them. Until Gibbs had spoken, she'd completely forgotten about the evidence bag she'd been supposed to bring down to Abby. She resists the urge to check her pockets, because of course that's a ridiculous instinct. She doesn't just shove evidence bags in her pockets. Or at least, not when she's thinking straight. In this state, though? It's anybody's guess.

"Well?" Gibbs snaps. Her new boss isn't exactly the soul of patience on a good day, let alone after pulling an all-nighter in search of a naval officer's killer.

"I, uh…" _Just tell him! _a part of her urges. _You're going to have to do it eventually! _But another, far more practical side of her retorts that she's rather fond of her life, and she'd like to keep it for a while, thank you very much. So she tries to keep her face neutral as she tells him, "I left them in the back of the van, Gibbs." And because the look he is giving her makes her feel like a none-too-bright toddler, she can't stop herself from adding, "Sorry."

"Don't apologize." His response sounds more automatic than anything. She finds herself wondering, irrelevantly, how many times he's said it over the years. His voice is not far from a growl as he orders her, "Bring them to Abby as soon as DiNozzo gets back." Still looking more annoyed than Kate is really comfortable with, he adds, "And for future reference, Agent Todd, it's usually a good idea to hold on to crucial evidence in the middle of a murder investigation."

Even as she winces at the sarcasm, she can't help thinking about how much worse it would have been if he'd known what had really happened. Because leaving evidence in the van was one thing. It was stupid, sure, and careless, but not really a big problem. _Losing _important evidence, though? Gibbs would never forgive her. So maybe lying to him hadn't been the smartest idea she'd ever had, but at least it bought her some time.

_Think, Kate, _she tells herself firmly. _It has to be around here somewhere._ Taking a deep breath and a large, fortifying gulp of coffee, she pushes herself up from her chair and begins retracing her steps.

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Nearly an hour later, Kate still hasn't managed to find the bag with the shell casings. She's practically torn the building apart, and quite frankly, she's out of ideas. _This is it, _she realizes grimly. _Time to face the music. _

Because she might have panicked earlier, when Gibbs had first asked her, but Kate isn't stupid. And as painful as admitting her screw-up is going to be, she knows that sitting on it would be worse. If she hasn't found it by now, chances are pretty good that she isn't going to. And she knows what that means. She's toast either way, but there's more than just her job at stake. And if they're going to have any hope of salvaging a case against the bastard they're chasing, the rest of the team needs to know what happened.

But even as she knows, on an intellectual level, what she needs to do, she's still having a hard time managing to convince herself to actually do it. _Come on, Kate._ _Get your priorities in order. You can't be worried about your own ass now. Suck it up, and do the right thing. _

Gibbs's desk is only a few feet away from her own, but if feels like the longest walk of her life. Worse, this is the second time in only a month that she's had to initiate this kind of conversation with a boss. But she had done the right thing the last time, and she is going to do it now, too. Even if it kills her. And, considering how Gibbs is likely to react, that is beginning to seem like a very real possibility.

Long, long before she is really ready, the few steps it takes her to reach Gibbs's desk are over. She stands in front of it, trying desperately not to twist her fingers in the hem of her sweater like a nervous schoolgirl, and waits for him to acknowledge her.

When he does it is to look up at her with an impatient, "Yes?"

"I, uh…" Kate suddenly wishes she had given more thought to what she was actually planning to say. Not that there was really any way to put "I lost a bag of crucial evidence" that would make it sound any better, but still. She wished she had thought of some way of introducing the subject tactfully. Not that Gibbs would have let her.

"Spit it out, Agent Todd."

"I screwed up, Gibbs," she blurts out. "The casings I said were in the van? They're not. I- I don't know what I did with them."

He stares at her for a long moment, and Kate wishes, not for the first time, that Gibbs's expression wasn't so impossible to read. Even with her profiling training, she can't figure out what he's thinking half the time. Not that it takes a trained profiler to realize that he is going to be pretty pissed.

He gives her that narrow-eyed, considering look that always makes Kate feel like she has something in her teeth. Then, when Kate is just about to say something – anything – just to break the silence, he says quietly, "I know."

"What?" Kate can barely manage to close her mouth, his answer is so different from what she'd been expecting. So much for getting through this professionally, the way she'd planned. All she can seem to do is stare at her boss, blinking like an idiot.

"Yeah." He stares at her for another long moment, then, rolling his eyes, leans down to open a desk drawer and pulls out a sealed evidence bag. Holding the corner of the bag between two fingers, he dangles it in front of her, his eyebrows raised.

Kate isn't sure whether it's shock or exhaustion, but either way she can't seem to form a coherent sentence. "How…?"

"Ducky," he tells her shortly. "You left it in autopsy. He gave it to me earlier. Right after I asked you about it, in fact." That raised eyebrow is looking dangerous, now.

And then, with a flash of realization that makes her want to bang her head against her desk, Kate realizes where she had missed when she'd re-traced her steps.

"Abby's running the prints now," Gibbs adds, still fixing her with that same, unblinking stare.

"Why – why didn't you say anything?"

"Wanted to see how long it would take you to admit that you'd lost it." His tone is matter-of-fact, but still Kate winces.

So it had been a test. And she had failed. Miserably. "Gibbs, I – "

He holds up a hand, cutting her off. "Save it. Believe me, you're going to have some explaining to do, but for the moment I have more important things to worry about than your screw-ups." It takes all of Kate's training not to flinch at the sharpness of his tone. "Go finish reading through the reports."

Kate can only nod.

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It's nearly five hours later when they've finally wrapped up the case. Though technically a success, it's still a less-than-satisfying ending. Their murderer, cornered in his apartment, had taken his own life. The whole thing leaves a bitter taste in Kate's mouth, and not only because of the lack of real justice. When they'd finally gotten a lead – a hit on their BOLO on the stolen car – Gibbs had told her in that harsh, completely non-negotiable tone of his, to stay where she was. Despite every instinct clamoring that she should be going with them, Kate hadn't dared protest. Not when Gibbs used that tone.

So though she should be ecstatic that the case is finally over, that she finally has a chance to go home and get some real sleep, Kate feels no such relief. Instead, she shifts anxiously in her chair, glancing periodically towards the elevator as she waits Gibbs to get back.

Finally, after what feels like hours, she hears the faint _ding! _of the elevator doors. She practically jumps out of her seat, looking expectantly towards her boss. But he just goes to sit at his own desk. Without looking up at her, he tells her quietly, "Go home, Kate."

"Huh?" This hasn't been her day for eloquent responses.

"Go home. Get some sleep. We'll talk when you're able to form a coherent thought."

"Gibbs, I – " Though a part of her knows it's useless to protest, she can't quite stop herself from trying.

"Agent Todd. Go. Home."

And so, with a frustrated sigh, she does.

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As she drives home, Kate realizes that she should hardly be surprised that Gibbs is putting off the conversation. A few short weeks at NCIS has been long enough to show her that Gibbs likes to make suspects wait before an interrogation. Why should he treat his own team any differently?

Her only consolation is that she has to believe that if Gibbs were actually going to fire her, he'd have done it already. Her boss is definitely not one who likes to waste time. But that doesn't mean she isn't dreading the coming confrontation. She isn't sure what Gibbs has in mind, but whatever it as, she highly doubts she is going to enjoy it.

But if there's one thing she's dreading more than hearing what Gibbs has to say about her stupidity, it's seeing the censure on his face. The disgust. She has come to really respect her new boss. And the thought of disappointing him – of losing what little of his respect she might finally have earned – makes her stomach twist.

Kate would have thought she'd stay awake all night, tossing and turning, but even her current anxiety isn't enough to overcome the exhaustion that threatens to consume her. And so, despite the many things on her mind, Kate falls asleep almost instantly.

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Kate arrives at the office early the next morning. As much as she might wish to postpone the inevitable…_conversation, _she's at the point now where she just wants to get it over with. Besides, she doesn't want an audience. DiNozzo will probably find out eventually, she knows – somehow, he always seems to anything personal or gossip-worthy about his co-workers – but for now, anyway, she'd rather preserve that last bit of dignity, and not have all of NCIS know about her screw-up.

Damn it, that thought bothers her. A _lot. _Because Kate is no stranger to having to prove herself. During her years in the Secret Service, it hadn't been easy to earn respect in such a male-dominated environment. She'd had to demonstrate her skill over and over again before her co-workers had truly accepted her. Even then, there had always been those stubborn hold-outs who'd seemed to think she'd gotten the job because of some sort of nod towards gender-sensitivity. As if the Secret Service had cared more about PR than keeping the president alive.

Since coming to NCIS, she's channeled all her energy into proving that she has what it takes to be a field agent, putting in long hours and more late nights than is probably really healthy, all because she hates when people dismiss her because she is a women, or young, or new, or whatever other excuse they use to overlook the fact that there's a _reason_ she was hired. So even though there had been a few things – all right, several – that didn't necessarily need to be done right away, Kate had still stuck around until they'd been finished. Definitely, no one could claim that she'd been unable to handle the workload.

As Kate exits the elevator, she's unsurprised to find Gibbs already at his desk. It doesn't seem to matter how early she gets to work – he's always already there.

He glances up as she comes into the squad room. "C'mere," he directs immediately. She'd been expecting him to start tearing into her right away. To her surprise, though, he takes her by the shoulders in a grip that, though firm, is actually not as harsh as she'd have expected. He maneuvers her behind the desk and pushes her gently into his chair. "Sit." He presses a coffee cup into her hand.

She tries to hide her surprise. This isn't at all the way she'd expected this conversation to go. Gibbs sits on the edge of his desk, facing her. For a long moment, he stares at her so intently that it takes all of her effort not to squirm under that penetrating blue gaze. When he finally speaks, his tone is stern. "All right, Kate. You want to explain to me why you thought hiding the fact that you'd lost a crucial piece of evidence was the best way of handling the situation?"

She swallows hard. She's determined to get through this conversation with her dignity intact. She screwed up, she knows, but she's going to handle this like a professional. "I know I shouldn't have done it…"

"Well, yeah. I would hope."

So much for that tactic. She shrugs helplessly. "I just…I panicked, Gibbs. You put me on the spot, and I couldn't figure out how to tell you…I just said the first thing I could think of!"

He nods. "Yeah, I can understand that. Because 'Boss, I don't know where the casings are' are _such_ hard words to come up with. Lots of big words and complicated concepts, there." Kate wonders if such biting sarcasm comes naturally to him, or if it's the result of years of practice.

She sighs, trying to release some of her frustration along with the huge gust of air. "You know what I mean. I knew telling the truth would make me look like an idiot. I didn't want to lose your respect."

"And you thought lying to me would make me respect you?"

"I was hoping you wouldn't find out. That I'd be able to find it in time, and you'd never need to know that I'd, uh…'temporarily misplaced'it." She looks up somewhat hopefully. "I did come tell you about it. You have to give me credit for that."

But Gibbs is frowning again. "Not when you wasted nearly an hour trying to cover it up, I don't."

Well, there is that. Still, she can't help pointing out, "I only spent an hour looking for it because you stuck it in a drawer and didn't tell me about it!"

"Yeah?" He challenges, and Kate curses herself for arguing. "And what if it really had been lost? The way you thought it was? Then we'd still have the same problem, and you'd have wasted time that could be spent looking for a solution."

If it's possible, his voice grows even more intense. "You listen to me, Kate." He pauses, waiting until she looks up at him before continuing. "People make mistakes. It happens. Even more so when we're talking about new agents. What separates the good ones from the ones who can't hack it, is what you do about it. You try to cover it up, that doesn't help anybody. It makes things worse for you in the long run, but more importantly, it hurts the case. If that evidence really had been lost, we'd have needed to know immediately."

"I know. I do know that, Gibbs. I don't know what I was thinking. I was just…" she trails off. Saying "I was too tired" sounds pathetic even in her own head. Not to mention, makes her sound like a weakling.

But Gibbs picks up on it. "So maybe the real question is why you worked yourself to the point where you couldn't manage to keep track of a bag of evidence."

"We were all tired, Gibbs. Pulling late nights on the case. "

"Uh-huh. I'd buy that, except you were nearly past what you could tolerate _before _this case came up."

"I just…I had some stuff I wanted to get done."

"Let me tell you something, Kate. Every new agent I've ever had on my team, at some time or another, has done the same thing. They're new, desperate to prove themselves. They work themselves to the point of exhaustion. And every single time, they end up making stupid mistakes. You want to prove yourself to me? You do your job. You pay attention. You learn. You don't work yourself to the point of exhaustion on things that don't need to be done right away, just to prove to me how much you can accomplish. Being tired is one thing. That's a part of life when we're working tough cases. But if you reach the point where you can't function, the point where you're going to lose things or forget important details, you say so. I don't give a damn if you think it makes you look stupid. It won't be nearly as stupid as you'll look when you go and make a rookie mistake. We clear?"

She nods briskly. That hadn't exactly been what she'd call a pep talk, but somehow she still feels a little better.

"Good. And the next time you even _think _about lying to me like that…"

"It won't happen again, Gibbs."

He gives her a long look, then replies quietly, "I know." After yet another long look, he orders, "All right. Time for you to get to work. Be glad we found our dirt bag. You'll have plenty of spare time."

There's something about the slight smirk on his face that Kate doesn't like. At all. He looks entirely too pleased with himself for her peace of mind. She narrows her eyes suspiciously. "Time for what?"

"You're going to spend the next couple of days helping out in the evidence garage. In inventory." His grin grows even more pronounced. "Figure you could use some practice keeping track of evidence."

Kate respects the hell out of her new boss. Really, she does. But what she would give to wipe that smirk off his face…

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**A/N: **Feedback is always welcome. I'd love to hear from you!


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